


Touched by Angels

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fear, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Dean’s possessed by Michael and the bunker’s full of strangers. You pray for reprieve, and quickly learn just how dangerous prayers can be.





	1. Part 1

He’s the picture of ethereal beauty in that snowy suit; hair combed and parted in a way that is very much not Sam. He stands at the foot of your bed; arms relaxed at his sides, illuminated by a beam of soft moonlight streaming through the window. Window.

You’re not in the bunker. 

You bolt upright, sheets clutched around your waist like it’ll dampen the prickling dread. “You… You’re not him.” Your voice is tight; rough from nonuse. 

Not-Sam smirks icy and sets his gaze on you. “Observant.” 

You swallow. “Who - what - are you?”

“Guess,” he says, and blinks fiery red.

Your head’s already shaking wildly before the words can form. “N-no. That’s not possible. Y-you’re dead. Dean… Michael-”

“Yet here I stand,” Sam - or Lucifer - says then, voice smooth. 

“No-no-no,” you mumble, eyes dropping to your lap as you drag your hands through your hair. “This is a dream.” You snap your gaze back to his. “I’m dreaming,” you breathe. “It’s the only explanation-” 

“Perhaps,” Lucifer nods, then eases down onto the foot of the mattress, turning at the hips so that he can face you, hands clasped between his thighs. The moonlight catches the top of his head, lighting his chestnut hair in some parody of a Halo. “But your prayers have been answered nonetheless.” 

“What?”

The Fallen Angel smiles tight and dips his chin. “You prayed for escape… don’t you remember?” 

You shake your head, “No, that wasn’t - that wasn’t a prayer. After Dean-”

“Was stolen,” Lucifer finishes, “You prayed for escape. Because it just wasn’t worth the fight without Dean, was it?”

“I… No.” Your head continues to wobble. “I didn’t pray for this. For you.” 

His smile is soft this time, autumn eyes eclipsed in shadow. “You prayed. An Angel answered. You know how this works.” 

You scrub a hand over your face. “But you aren’t… I mean - you’re dead. How could you have possibly-”

“Perhaps my brother wasn’t the Angel who heard.” This is a different voice; richer, yet gut-droppingly familiar. Your eyes flit to the sound and your chest seizes. Michael stands at the door of your bedroom. In full possession of Dean Winchester. He’s dressed in an extravagant suit and wool overcoat. A tweed cap fits on his head and shadows his eyes. You breathe his name and he grins far too wide, his eyes erupting in a blinding blue.

You suck in a breath as the Archangel takes a step forward - it’s just a dream. Just a very vivid dream, you just need to wake up. You pinch your arm hard. That’s what you’re supposed to, right? When you’re having a nightmare? But… nothing. The two Heavenly entities remain. So very real. 

“This might be a dream,” Lucifer says, rising, “but you’re locked inside your own head. So maybe…” He rounds the bedpost, looming. “Maybe this isn’t just your mind’s creation. Maybe… there’s a bit more to this.” He’s at your side now, and you have to bend at the neck to find his face. “You think?”

“How?” you ask. “How is this an answer, an escape?” The question is an honest one; sealed inside your mind, anchored down with two Archangels isn’t exactly the respite you’ve been longing for.

“Distraction’s easy,” Michael says, strides closer, fluid on those muscled legs. “You just have to tap into the center.” He smiles slow, eyes too open; dead yet glittering. 

You’re too bare, even underneath the blankets, dressed only in a tank and panties. “The center of what?”

“Desire,” he says. “Want… urges.” He drops his chin. “It’s all so very… human.”

You laugh at that, the sound of it brash and cutting. “I don’t want this.”

Michael’s smile holds, softens into something mirroring sympathy. “Pride. Such a convenient shield, isn’t it?” Lucifer chuckles deep.

The thing is - you know what he’s getting at, and you don’t at all like it; you don’t like how it makes your belly tight and your cheeks prickle hot. You don’t like how your cunt tingles with sudden interest. You say nothing, but offer your tightest, closed-mouth smile, then pinch your forearm hard enough that you expect the tissue to crush between your fingers. The ache is strong, the pain sure, but you remain.

Lucifer’s stolen grin glows. “See?” he says, moves in so that he’s right at the bedside, towering right over you. “Locked.”

“You’re Angels,” you say. “You can’t be here without my permission. Get out.”

A deep chuckle cuts from across the room. “We aren’t possessing you,” Michael says, and casts you a derisive look. His face smooths, brows lift, and starts a slow walk to the bed. “If someone were to walk into your room right now - they’d find you sound asleep.” His lips stretch into something wolfish. “They wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

You gape, panting, eyes shifting between them both. Lucifer shifts closer, holds your gaze as he tugs the sheet from your grip. Your hand goes to jerk it back, but then the Archangel’s lips fall to yours; warm and soft. The kiss is easy and open-mouthed, absent of tongue. You sigh into the heat of him, hands blindly reaching; traipsing across the breadth of his stark-white shoulders. He leans his weight into you, pushes you deep into the mattress, into the pillow. 

You’re burning; thrumming hot and pulsing wet between your thighs - where Lucifer has slotted himself between, already grinding his hips. The bed dips beside you, and a massive hand trails up the smooth the length of your shin, brushes over your knee, and palms down your thigh. “Not even a fight,” Michael says, fingers moving to toy at the hem of your panties. Lucifer’s mouthing at your neck now, stops to tongue at the soft slope of it, earning him a breathy moan. “You see,” Michael starts, fingers plucking elastic, “the human mind - it really is a fascinating thing. You think you’re against this, think you’re above it. That’s what your mind’s logic is telling you.” You’re panting at the ceiling, eyes starting roll back with the way Lucifer’s using his mouth. “But,” Michael continues, “look at you. You want this; this basic, primal thing that you try to repress deep inside.” He huffs a chuckle. “Your mind battles with itself. What a mysterious system my Father crafted.”  

You let your head fall to the side, eyes locked on stolen green. He’s still playing with the line of your panties, smile soft and so very wrong. You want to be horrified, you want to be disgusted - but the twisted Angel is right - and the pool of hot slick between your legs is the only proof of it you really need. You swallow hard, then pull your head back a little too quickly; cheek knocking against Lucifer’s - who deftly seizes the opportunity to lick into your open mouth.

A hand smooths your hair back, thick thumb tracing the soft line of your jaw. “You’re enjoying it,” Michael says, bed creaking as he brushes velvet lips over your ear. “You can let go now… and enjoy this gift Heaven so kindly offers you.”

You’re gasping into the heat of Sam’s mouth - into the Devil’s mouth, “N - no,” you try, mumbling into the warmth of him. He pulls away grinning; triumphant. “It - no. This is - it’s wrong…”

“Is it?” Lucifer rumbles, drags a thumb over the plush curve of your bottom lip. The simple touch has you trembling hot, has your hips twitching underneath the bulking weight of him. His face hardens, you can see it even in the dim glow of the room. “Stop fighting,” he says, and your blood chills under the stony grit of his voice. His features smooth, and he smiles, soft and easy and kind - just like Sam. “You’ll feel good - we can do that for you - my brother and I. All you have to do…” his tips his head, lets his forehead slant against yours. “Is let it happen.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s possessed by Michael and the bunker’s full of strangers. You pray for reprieve, and quickly learn just how dangerous prayers can be.

Your mind sparks with red alert; this isn’t even close to right, to acceptable by any definition, but Lucifer’s still laid long and heavy over you, Michael’s massive hand kneading the soft flesh of your thigh.

Your blood thumps hot, cunt pulsing in - what? Want? Need? Or maybe you’re just that fucked in the head, maybe you’re just so hunter-thickened that you’re drawn to this - to be owned and fucked raw by beings beyond this world.

Lucifer’s got your tank tugged down under your breasts, bare and soft, and his face is nuzzled into the valley between; tongue hot and tasting. He slicks across a nipple - and that’s when you know it’s over, when there’s no more rational thought in the staticky buzz of your mind.

Michael’s leaned in now, hand still hot, fingers denting ache-deep into your thigh, mouthing warm and wet, lips soft, at your neck. You’re pinned underneath - not that you’d go anywhere if you tried - so you get a hand slung across the broad expanse of Lucifer’s borrowed shoulders, the other curled around the soft hairs at the back of Michael’s head.

Lucifer works his teeth into it, a blunt scrape against sensitive flesh that you can feel all the way to your cunt. “Please,” you gasp, the sound of it crisp and fresh against the heavy, dark quiet.

“She’s ready,” Michael says, with an air of satisfaction, and the bedsprings groan underneath him as he pulls up to his ass.

Lucifer draws back, tucks thick fingers underneath your panties, and works them down your legs, off your feet. You hadn’t exactly realized just how wet you were before, but now that the cool air is splashing icy between your legs - Jesus. You’re drenched.

Michael’s shrugging his coat off, lets it drop to the bed, then picks his hat off; hair parted and gelled to precision, shining in the waxy glow. He takes Lucifer’s place as he pushes off the bed, settles his weight between wide part of your thighs. His mouth’s on you before you can prepare yourself for it; lips full and soft, tongue pressed up against the empty hollow of your cunt. He licks in deep, the intensity of it drawing sharp breath from your lungs.

Something hot and heavy and meaty drops to your cheek, sticky wet smearing across flesh, to your lips. You knock your head to the side and let your mouth open; already watering with the want of it. Your lips close soft around the tip, tongue slicking underneath the salty ridge of the crown, and he pushes deeper and deeper until you feel a blunt press at the back of your throat.

Michael’s working you up slippery-hot, tongue writhing and fucking in deep, full upper lip flared across the hood of your clit. He’s wringing your belly taut, the heavy dick in your mouth cranking the pleasure higher.

You start to squeeze at your tits, lost in your own depravity, pinching your nipples as Lucifer drags over your tongue, Michael lapping deep into your cunt.

Slick-wet sounds fill the room, the lewdness of it pulling your belly tighter still - and then Michael get two fingers at your entrance, pushing in under the spongy wet of his tongue, and,  _oh-_

You’re filled in the strangest way; with tongue, cock, and fingers, and god, you’re gonna bust soon. Lucifer gets a knee braced on the mattress, next to your chest so he can hump himself deeper into the hot wet of your throat. You gag, tears springing, and trail your fingers over the bulge there.

Michael’s pumping now, knuckle-deep, tonguing in time - there’s no exact rhythm, but it’s good, makes you moan around the meaty girth in your mouth. When you look up, you can see the long stretch of Lucifer’s arms, hands curved over the headboard for leverage, muscles straining against the stark white of his suit jacket.

You’re breathing crisp, sharp, and quick through your nose, but it really isn’t enough, and your head’s fogging up with the way your throat’s stuffed up thick. Lucifer seems to notice, and slicks back slow, grips himself at the root so you can sputter and gasp.

You lurch up when Michael centers on your clit; lips tight and sucking, curled fingers jabbing and stroking. You’re already squeezing around him, grunting out his name like it’s a prayer itself-

“Let go,” Lucifer says, in Sam’s rasp. “Let yourself fall.” One more push of two fingers does just that, and you’re iron-stiff and trembling, the insides of your knees crushing against Michael’s ears as the heats rolls and ripples. You’re gasping and keening, but he just keeps flicking, slippery-hot at your clit, and it’s too much - it smarts and  _stings_. You try to hitch yourself back, but Michael plants a heavy hand hard on your stomach-

“Please,” you squeak. “Can’t - fuck! I can’t-”

He pulls away, finally, and hefts up to lick into your mouth. He kisses just like Dean, not that you’re surprised - but, for a moment, you lose yourself in it because he tastes like Dean; spicy behind the earthy tang of your cunt. You moan soft into the delicious heat of him, get your hands up on the firm curve of his shoulders. He drops his hips so you can feel the significant lump under his slacks, and it brings fresh, hurtling fire thrumming up through your veins.

He breaks away, leaves your lips soft and swollen. Grinning easy, he traces a thumb along the line of your jaw. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he gleams, and there’s a prickle of pride that tries to bloom in your chest, because how  _dare_  he gloat - but then he’s pulling back, dragging his hands down your thighs, then eases off the foot of the bed.

Smoothing the wrinkles from his suit, he keeps his smile firm, his eyes solid. “Now,” he says, gaze floating to Lucifer. “You’re going to come again, but not for me.” A creak of the mattress, and Lucifer’s rounding the bedpost, cock thick and flushed and bouncing against the pristine ivory of his suit. Michael swiftly takes his brother’s place at your side, kneels down and grips you hard under the jaw, jerking your face to his.

“You’re going to come for my brother - and I want you  _screaming_ this time. No one can hear you - it’s just us.” Jade eyes flicker; searching. “And when you’re done? You’re going to come for me. You understand, don’t you?” He grins wicked, fingers pressing in deep. “We’re going to fuck you apart.”


End file.
